


Second Chances

by Claire3467



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Transphobia, trans!alex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire3467/pseuds/Claire3467
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where reincarnation is a normal and accepted part of life, everyone's favorite Revolutionaries are getting their second chances in modern day NYC.</p><p>(Look, I just want Alex and John to have a chance to be happy babies, okay?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So.... This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while now, so I figured I'd give it a shot (heh).  
> I don't really have that much of a plan for the plot, and this might wind up being a series of vaguely related one shots. We shall see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while now, so I figured I'd give it a shot (heh).  
> I don't really have that much of a plan for the plot, and this might wind up being a series of vaguely related one shots. We shall see.

John Guerra didn’t tend to pay much attention in history class. Who really cared about a bunch of dead, straight, white guys? Especially junior year, when all the tests were multiple choice and their teacher didn’t seem to care so much about making sure they all passed the AP exam (John and his friends had been studying on their own) as he did going off on tangents about seemingly random topics relating to said dead, straight, white guys. Given all that, John had taken to alternating between drawing in his sketchbook and texting his best friends, Pierre and Frank. Because of this, he only caught the last word or so of his teacher’s sentence- “der Hamilton.”

Hamilton? Why did that name sound familiar? For the first time in forty minutes, he set down his sketchbook (which conveniently doubled as a cell phone hiding barrier) and listened to his teacher. Who had, of course, now moved on to a rant against Jefferson. Granted, John agreed that the guy had sucked, but now that meant he had to find out about this Hamilton guy himself. Namely, why the name made his stomach feel all fluttery. 

**Group Message: Frank <3 & Pierre**

**John:** u guys know abt alexander hamilton?

**John:** name sounds familiar but i didnt do the reading

**Frank <3:** nope. 

**Frank <3:** babe you lit have a computer w u right now

**Frank <3:** google him

**Pierre:** This should be good. Let me know when it clicks, nerd.

John frowned. Pierre was the only one of his admittedly small friend group that had had his revelation yet. Revelations tended to happen when something reminded you of your last life (generally the only one that ever yielded clear memories). Pierre’s had been last year, during a lesson in his world history class. He hadn’t ever mentioned who or what had triggered it but given how moony eyed he got for about a week afterwards, it wasn’t too hard to guess.

_ You were a gay white guy who was literally the personification of that stupid cinnamon roll meme. That’s all I’m saying. _

He sighed. Pierre still refused to tell him anything more, despite relentless pestering. He knew being told directly rarely actually helped, but he still wanted to know. 

Alright, Hamilton. He set his sketchbook back into phone hiding position. What did Wikipedia have to say about random straight dead white guy number 87? 

Fifteen minutes later, and John still didn’t have an answer to his question. A couple of names had sounded familiar but nothing in the article had jumped out at him. The bell rang for lunch with John still wondering about the part of his brain complaining that the picture hadn’t shown his freckles and why would they do that?

He was so lost in these thoughts concerning a founding father’s freckles that it took his boyfriend literally dragging him into a kiss before he realized that he had just been standing outside of his classroom for who knew how long. He responded briefly before pulling back and lacing his fingers through Franks’. 

“So, figure anythin’ out about what’s-his-face?” Frank asked, his Southern drawl still strong even after five years in New York. 

“Alexander,” John responded immediately before making a face. “And apparently I was on a first name basis with the guy who founded… well, a bunch of stuff, I guess.”

“Huh,” was all Frank said as they started making their way to the cafeteria. “No names were familiar or anythin’? Or faces, maybe?” 

“They left out his freckles. He was much cuter with them.”

His boyfriend stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Did you just call a founding father cute? I don’t think you’re allowed to do that. Pierre, tell him he can’t do that.”

Their friend had joined them just as they passed into the cafeteria. He rolled his eyes at them both before giving John a sly look. “John called Hamilton plenty of things that were much worse than ‘cute’. Trust me, this is a downgrade.” They all sat at their usual table, John shaking his head slightly in an effort to dislodge the sudden flurry of ‘dear boy’s and ‘beloved’s and ‘darling’s that were racing through his mind along with a lot of much cruder French. He groaned and dropped his head to the table.

Frank’s hand rubbed gentle circles between his shoulder blades as Pierre let out a long-suffering sigh and held out his hand. “Phone, dumbass.” 

John handed it over, the green turtle case bright against Pierre’s pale skin. “See, now I’m almost scared to find out,” he said, watching as Pierre apparently searched for something.

“Yeah,” he responded distractedly, eyes flicking over the screen. “You’ll be fine. Gonna warn you now though- you’re gonna deal with a shit ton of bad memories.” 

“Gee, thanks.”

He handed John’s phone back over. “Here, if that doesn’t trigger something nothing will.”

“Founders online,” he read aloud, making sure to sound as overly dramatic as possible and making Frank laugh, though Pierre just watched him. “From Dead White Guy #1 to Lieutenant Colonel Dead White Guy #2, April 1779. Jesus, that long ago?” He skimmed through the information on the sides before jumping back to the beginning of the letter. “Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by actions rather than words, to convince you… that… I love you.” He very distantly felt the phone fall to the table as his fingers went slack. 

_ Alexander _ . The fluttery feeling from earlier returned, about a thousand times stronger. A sudden rush of images of red curls, violet eyes and a brilliant smile. God, getting shot had hurt less than this. Laughter and shouts and tender whispers and soft sighs. 

_ Just promise me you will come back, John. _

He bolted from the table, barely registering Frank’s voice behind him.

_ Just promise you won’t leave me, John. _

He barely made it into the bathroom before puking. He heaved, shaking and sobbing as the memories kept flooding into his mind. His father, his mother, his siblings, Jemmy, oh  _ God _ , Jemmy. 

The feeling of the bullet tearing through his flesh. The sense of fulfillment that was now making him want to throw up again even though there was nothing left to come up. The faint regret as he realized he would never see Alexander again, just before everything faded for the last time.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, knees to his chest against the wall, silently crying. He sniffled as a hand rested gently on his shoulder and glanced up to see Pierre silently handing him a few tissues. “Thanks, Pierre.”

His friend settled down next to him, apparently willing to ride out John’s emotions. “Take your time,  _ mon ami _ . I can’t imagine anything pleasant is coming back right now.”

“I promised him I’d come back, P.”

There was a pause. “Hamilton?” After John nodded, he continued. “I had wondered but I’ll admit I wasn’t sure until I had read the letters. Quite the romantic, wasn’t he?”

John laughed half-heartedly. “I  _ left _ him. I promised I’d come back and then I  _ abandoned _ him.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I can’t do anything right.”

Pierre grabbed his shoulder again, rougher this time, not letting go until John met his eyes. “The guy wrote you about a million pages worth of love letters, John. I think he’ll forgive you.”

At that, John laughed for real, wiping his eyes and sitting up straighter. “He really didn’t know when to stop. I was so scared we’d be caught, and he just poured his heart out. Those letters were the only things that kept me going most days.” He rubbed his shoulder idly, confused for a split second as to why it didn’t ache. 

Pierre didn’t say anything. John turned to find him smiling sadly. “You suicidal  _ idiot _ .” He elbowed him lightly. 

John grinned, then groaned. “Goddammit, now I miss him. How the hell am I supposed to find that little jerk?”

Pierre tilted his head thoughtfully. “Grindr, maybe?”

John started to laugh, except- “You know, that actually might work? That, or look for someone ranting for 90 tweets on the same subject.” 

Pierre chuckled. “He would, wouldn’t he?” He frowned at John. “What are you going to tell Frank?”

“Shit.”

“Hadn’t thought about that yet, huh?”

“I’ve been a little busy having a minor emotional breakdown, thank you.” They started walking back to the cafeteria. “Well, I can’t say it’s because he’s a loyalist this time. But… it’s really not fair to him. I love Alexander.” He sighed. “I guess the truth usually works, right?” 

“Theoretically. Though, I would recommend that you lead in with something other than ‘I’m breaking up with you because I’m madly in love with the guy on the ten dollar bill.’”

“Ha ha.” It was hard, though, to match up that image with his memories of Alexander. It just felt… wrong. “I really do wonder what he’s up to, though.”

Pierre shrugged. “Eh, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. It’s only a matter of time before you two hotheads run into each other again.”

“I hope you’re right.”  _ I’ll see you soon, dear boy. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (incredibly gay) letter John reads is here: http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0100  
> I highly recommend it if you haven't read it.  
> A few notes about the characters:  
> I am using the musical appearances; John is Latino, I just didn't mention it anywhere.  
> Frank is Francis Kinloch, who historical!Laurens met in Geneva (and probably had a crush on). He is black in this fic. (I have very little intention of making anyone historical characters white.)  
> Pierre is Pierre-Étienne du Ponceau, secretary to Baron von Stuben, who historical!Laurens met during the Revolution. In this fic, his father is French-Canadian and his mother is Chinese (so he speaks French, Mandarin, and English).  
> Google them if you wanna know more.  
> In regards to the universe, once people have their revelation, they can recognize people as their past lives (so Pierre recognized John as being Laurens after he had his revelation).  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!  
> I am claire3467 on tumblr! Feel free to stop by my ask or message me to scream about things!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at what the angriest little founding father has been getting up to in the modern world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks so so much to everyone who has read this and commented/left kudos! Y'all are all amazing!  
> A few warnings for this chapter:  
> -mentions/references to self-harm and suicidal thoughts (it's pretty vague, but they are there)  
> -Alex's teacher is a transphobic dick and deliberately baits him. This is only in the first bit of the chapter, so you can skip to past the first page break if it bothers you.
> 
> Also, because I didn't feel like putting all the translations, just assume that everything Alex says from the time he gets home onward is in Spanish.
> 
> *Edit: So my roommate made me realize that John's and (to a lesser extent) Alex's last names seem out of the blue. I was actually originally going to make them something close to their historical last names, but I was browsing Dominican and Puerto Rican last names... And I saw these two and couldn't resist.  
> Guerra means war in Spanish.  
> Leon means lion.  
> Don't expect a lot of symbolism for everyone else, because I'm not sure I have that kind of energy.

Only a couple of miles away from where John was trying to figure out how to gently explain his decision to Frank, Alexander Leon was trying to figure out how much longer he could get away with pretending not to hear his teacher. He really wasn’t sure why the man even bothered anymore; he had to have figured out by now that Alex had better things to do than listen to him repeat the history book’s (incorrect) information. He had _fought_ in the Revolution, which he had _tried_ to explain to the man (without mentioning names, obviously) and the book got so many things so _wrong_ , but his teacher didn’t seem to care what he had to say, which wasn’t altogether too surprising, especially given-

“Alejandra Leon!”

Alex gritted his teeth. Ah yes, the reason he was currently ignoring his teacher. He had managed to get the majority of his teachers to call him the proper name by this exact method of ignoring them until they got it right, but that didn’t make the interim any more pleasant. A month into school however, and his APUSH teacher was stubbornly refusing to stop being an asshole. Well, Alexander could be stubborn too. He’d created a damn political party out of stubbornness, he could-

“Miss Leon!”

That did not mean, however, that it wasn’t taking every ounce of self-control he had to not jump from his desk and either punch the man in the face and/or scream that it wasn’t that fucking _hard_ , and did he need to have a damn sign to remind him?

His teacher sighed, apparently having finally given up- for the day at least, Alexander knew he’d go through the same routine tomorrow. “Alexander!”

Alex finally looked up, giving the man his most winning smile. “Yes?”

His teacher glowered at him. “I asked if you were able to name some of Washington’s aides-de-camp.”

Alex fought down a smirk. Wasn’t in the standards, probably hadn’t even been in the reading; definitely supposed to be an impossible question, a punishment for so blatantly not paying attention (he had an English draft to work on, it was _far_ more important)-except. Except this was Alexander and he could have named his friends in his sleep. So, with Richard laughing as silently as he could next to him: “John Laurens, Richard Meade, Alexander Hamilton, Peter Bowman, Tench Tilghman, Edmund Randolph, John Hop-”

“Yes, thank you, that will do!” His teacher interrupted, obviously displeased that he hadn’t been able to reprimand him. He probably would have asked a different, theoretically harder question, but the bell rang at that exact moment and everyone immediately flooded out the door, Alex and Richard included.

“Were you listening at all before he called on you?” Richard asked, grinning at him.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Why bother? We both know what happened better than the guys who wrote the textbook, and certainly better than that asshole.”

“Mhm. I’m only asking because he mentioned you and one kid asked, and I quote: ‘Wasn’t he, like, super gay for his friend?’ You should have seen his face. I didn’t think people usually turned that color of purple.”

Alex snorted. “Did he actually say anything, or just splutter and change the subject?” Alex had tried to engage the teacher in an actual conversation (he wasn’t quite generous enough to refer to the trainwreck as a debate) early in the semester, with the only result being a patronizing “Well, isn’t it sweet that you have an interest in history?”

Alex hadn’t tried again after that.

Richard grinned, his teeth bright against his golden skin. “‘That is _highly_ unlikely, young lady.’ _Then_ he changed the subject.”

Alex smirked. “It’s so funny how I literally poured my heart out _and_ referenced all the times we had sex _multiple_ times in every letter to Laurens and we still get labeled ‘bros’. And by funny I mean appalling. Really, how much clearer does it get than ‘I love you’ and ‘Yours forever’? I hate people.”

“Yeah, we know.”

“Comer una polla.”

“So eloquent. I can see why everyone loved you so much.”

“Va te faire foutre.”

“Okay, now that’s just cheating. Pick a language and stick with it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Banter was easy. Thinking of comebacks (however pathetic they were) meant that he wasn’t thinking of his Laurens. Wasn’t reliving the actual, physical, _pain_ when he received that damned letter. Nope, definitely wasn’t doing that.

“C’mon, shorty. Let’s get some food. I’m starving.”

Alex glared. “Five. Eight. Is. Not. Short.”

“Of course not. Anything you say. I didn’t mean to be _little_ you.”

Alexander smacked him.

***

Three exceedingly long hours later, Alex walked through the entrance of his parent’s restaurant/bakery, waving as James poked his head out from the kitchen.

James’ eyebrows raised. “That bad of a day, huh nerd?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, James.”

His brother raised his hands in surrender and went back to whatever he was cooking.

Alex absolutely did not stomp up the stairs, because he was sixteen years old and a founding father, and neither of those categories behaved like five year olds. Usually.

Upon opening the door to his family’s apartment, he was immediately ambushed by two small sets of arms around his legs. Normally he would have happily scooped up one or the other of his sisters, but today…

“I’m sorry kiddos. I’m really not feeling well.” Rosa and Alicia reluctantly released him, the former pouting slightly as he slipped into his room, locking the door behind him. As much as he wanted to just collapse face first onto his bed, two things prevented that. First was that it was technically his and James’ room, which meant bunk beds, which meant that Alex had the top since his brother got up early to help get a head start on some of the cooking for the day. Second, he had been up since 5 am himself (two years since his revelation and the nightmares were still as strong as ever) and had, stupidly, gotten dressed at that time. Which meant his binder needed to come off so he could have a break before working the dinner shift, which meant that delightful reminder that his body couldn’t have just been made _right_.

Stupid, ugly sweatshirt off (he hated dressing like a slob, but he didn’t have the confidence to wear anything tighter fitting yet and t-shirts meant his wrists and forearms would be uncovered),  undershirt off, and finally, binder yanked off and chucked unceremoniously across the room. Ignore the mirror, clamber into bed, resist the urge to smother himself with the pillow. Repeat every damn day. Granted, some were worse than others, but still. None were ever particularly good.

Two years. Two years and he should have enough money saved up for top surgery, because the stupid insurance wouldn’t pay for it and he didn’t have the degree to fight them. Not yet.

Two years and he’d be at college, where nobody would know. He’d already been looking at going back to Columbia, already researching their dorm policies, already working on his argument for why he should be allowed to stay in the boys’ dorms. He just had to make it through these last years of high school without killing anyone. He’d promised James, promised his parents, and he couldn’t do that to the twins. _Wouldn’t_ do that to them.

And of course, he had to find his Laurens….

No, he wasn’t doing that. Twitter. Twitter would be a good distraction. Argue with people about how incredibly wrong they were. No heavy emotions needed, just write. He’d always been good at that.

So of _course_ , for whatever reason, the first thing to pop up was a picture of a turtle.

“God _dammit_ ,” he snarled. He didn’t throw his phone (it was his baby, and had cost far too much to be mistreated like that) but it was a near thing. He didn’t follow anyone other than his few friends and people he particularly enjoyed arguing with, so why were there fucking _nature_ photos getting shoved in his face. Not that he didn’t like animals, it was just that seeing them had a tendency to bring up memories of an excited smile and sparkling blue eyes and he just couldn’t handle that today. As he went to bury his head in the pillows again instead of risking any more bad memories (no, not bad, never bad, just too painful to deal with right now), he heard a soft mew right before a light weight landed on his back.

He turned his head, grinning in spite of everything. “Bonjour, Hammy,” he murmured, reaching back to scratch the ginger tomcat’s ears. “Où te caches-tu , mon pote?”

Naturally, the undersized cat (and oh, Richard still hadn’t stopped with the teasing) didn’t respond, but he did butt his head against Alex’s face, which did make him feel a little better. At his cat’s insistent shoving, he reached for his phone again. “Vous voulez prendre un selfie avec moi?” This was apparently acceptable to Hammy, as he calmly rested his head against Alex’s, letting him snap the picture.

Alex tweeted the picture before sighing and forcing himself up. He did have that draft to finish, after all. Moping could wait.

***

“Huh,” John said, staring at his phone.

“What is it?” Pierre asked, trying to peer over his shoulder.

“Nothing, it’s just…” he shook his head. “Nothing.”

Pierre gave him a look, then shrugged and went back to his math homework. John stared at his phone again, wondering why the retweeted selfie was bothering him so much (he knew why the cat was making him smile, that wasn’t the problem). The kid just felt… familiar somehow. _Wait…_ He checked the guy’s handle. @adotham

No. He shook himself and put his phone away. Probably just a coincidence, right? Yeah. Definitely.

Besides, how would he try to ask that? ‘Hey, were you by chance a really eloquent, bi redhead in a past life who wrote really dirty letters to his boyfriend? Just out of curiosity.’

And anyway, it was probably nothing, so it probably didn’t matter.

Right?

What were the odds they’d be in one spot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I plan on them actually meeting next chapter. Probably.  
> Richard is, of course, Richard Meade. He is Middle Eastern (I haven't decided on a country yet because I haven't picked last names for anyone other than Alex and John yet and I don't want to mess stuff up.)  
> James is James Hamilton Jr, Alex's older brother. He didn't actually have a younger sister (although I read something one time about his mother having miscarried, so whatever, there's my justification), much less twins, but I just like the idea of him interacting with them and being an awesome older brother, so deal. James is four years older than Alex, and the twins are eight.  
> I personally have a headcanon that Alex has about 80 separate trains of thought going through his head at any given time, hence all the tangents and parenthesis.  
> Translations!  
> Comer una polla.-Eat a dick.  
> Va te faire foutre. - Go fuck yourself.  
> Où te caches-tu , mon pote?- Where were you hiding, buddy?  
> Vous voulez prendre un selfie avec moi?- Want to take a selfie with me?  
> ***Notes on this ridiculous universe I have created  
> Neither John nor Alex have the same fathers as last time (because Henry was a dick and I refuse to write him), but their siblings are the same (i.e. John is the oldest of five kids AND NOBODY DIES BECAUSE THIS IS THE 21ST CENTURY AND THATS TOO SAD). This is actually fairly common for this world, especially if the emotional bonds between parent and child weren't particularly strong (such as because the dad was a douche). HOWEVER Alex's mom is still the lovely Rachel (I can't find a last name) because I firmly believe she deserved better than getting abandoned by her stupid husband and I think it's safe to say Alex loved her very much. I haven't decided on John's mom yet.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments/constructive criticism/anything I missed because I don't have a beta/kudos are always welcome!  
> I am claire3467 on tumblr! Feel free to stop by my ask or message me to scream about things!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions. Lots of reunions. And references. Lots of references.
> 
> Edit: I forgot to mention that two years have passed since the last chapter! Sorry for the confusion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in apology for this taking so long, have a chapter that somehow wound up being over twice as long as the previous two put together. (That's misleading, I know why it's this long. It's because I don't know how to find a stopping place.)  
> Just to clarify on contact names:  
> Filthy Loyalist- Frank  
> Lingayst- Pierre  
> Dick- Richard (Alex thinks his choice was hilarious. Richard does not.)  
> Again, assume that Alex and James are speaking Spanish together unless otherwise indicated (because I feel like it would be annoying for you guys to have to jump down to the bottom for translations of every line.)  
> Also, I should probably mention now that the musical very much exists. (Stop looking at me like that, if people can get away with Thomas/Laf and Madison/Hercules looking the exact same in other fics I can do this.)  
> Enjoy!

A pillow smacking him in the face combined with his brother saying, “Come on, nerd. Time to get up.” was not precisely how Alex preferred to be woken up. Especially not when he had been up half the night, unable to sleep from the anticipation. 

Again with the pillow. “Awaken, O brilliant one.”

Alex finally settled up onto his elbows, squinting and glaring at his brother’s grinning face. “Fuck off, James,” he muttered before curling up back under the blankets with Hammy. 

Well, he tried, anyway. James was apparently in particularly rare form this morning, as the blankets suddenly disappeared.  _ Fine _ , if that was how they were playing it. He snatched up Hammy, holding him out over James’ head, leading to an immediately hissing cat. (He hadn’t  _ meant _ for Hammy to hate everyone but him, it just sort of happened somehow. Richard had declared that the name had become a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. Alex had declared that he wanted new friends.) It had the desired effect, however, and James yelped and backed away from the bed.

“Keep your demon cat to yourself!”

Alex smirked and deposited Hammy back on his lap. “ Avez-vous l'écoutez pas, ” he cooed, scratching the now purring cat behind his ears. “ Vous êtes parfait comme vous êtes. ”

“Seriously, kid,” James said, slowly backing out of the room while keeping his eyes on the pint-sized feline. “It’s going to take us forever to get your shit moved over there, so get moving.”

Alex didn’t look up.

James sighed. “Hey,” he said, walking back over (though still not coming within claw range of Hammy). “You’re going to do great, Alex. You showed them once, you can do it again.”

Alex finally met his eyes (James’ might have been watery, but Alex didn’t have his contacts in yet so it was a bit hard to tell.), smiling slightly. “Okay.”

James grinned. “Damn right. I’d give you a hug, but I don’t want to get eviscerated, so I’ll just let you thank me for waking you up before the twins eat all the bacon.” He left, shutting the door behind him to let Alex get dressed.

_ Bacon _ . “Desole, Hammy,” he said, setting the cat back gently on his pillow. He looked up at him and meowed in betrayal as Alex climbed down to the floor, reaching for his contact case. Once he could actually see what was going on (he  _ had _ glasses, but he hated them and wasn’t entirely sure where they were currently, aside from a vague ‘somewhere in the packed things’), he reached for his phone. Roughly 147 notifications from Twitter (he had managed to get fairly popular in the last couple of years), a ‘how r u not up yet’ followed by a ‘whtevr c u soon’ from Richard (who texted like that for the sole purpose of irritating Alex) along with a dozen notifications from the facebook group comprised of everyone in his dorm building. And the chat with his suitemates…  _ Finally _ . Granted, Alex had only sent the message last night in a fit of panic, but still. It had been  _ agony _ waiting for a response. 

**Alex:** I know all of you had to sign that form saying you were okay with living with me, and I wanted to thank you for that. I just also wanted to make a request that you not out me to anyone else, please. I’m really trying to get a fresh start, and it would mean a lot if you could not mention it to anyone.

He was  _ still _ fuming about the fact that apparently he was such an anomaly that the school had made sure his future suitemates wouldn’t sue over being roomed with him (and outed him in the process) but it could still be okay. Three people knowing was still better than the entire floor.

And thankfully, those three people were apparently decent human beings, as he had gotten back an ‘of course, man’, a ‘don’t worry about it’, and a ‘wouldn’t dream of it. also, now is probably a good time to let all of you know that i use they/them pronouns, s'il vous plais’.

Well alright then. Maybe this would be alright. Another trans kid  _ and _ someone who spoke French. This could actually be better than alright, even.

Setting his phone down, he went to grab the clothes he had already set out the night before (he normally wasn’t nearly so organized, but he had been stressed out to an unusual degree even for him last night).

His summer had been a whirlwind leading up to this day. Mountains of paperwork to get everything legally changed, weeks of recovery time from the surgery, lots of doctor visits, but it was all worth it. 

He looked in the mirror and grinned. This was his shot, and he wasn’t about to throw it away.

***

John’s morning started about as pleasantly as Alexander’s did. Namely, it started with Mary and Jemmy leaping on top of him.

“Joooohhhhhnnnnnnn,” Jemmy whined, bouncing up and down on top of him. “Do you really have to leave?” 

“Yeah,” Mary chimed in, her tone equally pitiful. “Can’t you just stay here?”

John groaned and rolled over, snatching his littlest brother and tickling his waist mercilessly as Mary giggled beside them. John eventually gave in to his struggles and let him go, reaching over to pull Mary into his arms as well. 

“It’s only Columbia, guys. I promise I’ll visit lots and we can Skype, okay? It won’t be too bad, Lo prometo.” Of course, Mary was only eight, and Jemmy only ten. Even a week in between visits was probably going to feel like an eternity to them, and he definitely wouldn’t be coming home that much. “Now come on, bebés. Let me get dressed.”

Both continued pouting at him. He wiggled his fingers threateningly at them, making them shriek and bound out of his room. He grinned, shaking his head and walking over to shut the door, grabbing his phone along the way.

**Group Message: Filthy Loyalist & Lingayst**

**Lingayst:** Still bummed that you’re with other people, J

**Lingayst:** What if they’re terrible people?

**Filthy Loyalist:** worse idea

**Filthy Loyalist:** what if u like them better than us??????????

**Lingayst:** THAT IS WORSE

**Filthy Loyalist:** JOHN YOU HAVE TO PROMISE TO STILL LOVE US

**Lingayst:** NE NOUS LAISSEZ PAS, MON AMI

**John:** jfc i sleep in fifteen minutes later than you two and this is what happens????

**Filthy Loyalist:** SEE YOU CANT LEAVE US

**Lingayst:** WE CAN’T FUNCTION WITHOUT YOU 

**John:** ok im leaving now

His phone continued buzzing, presumably with more pleas to not abandon them, but he seriously did need to get dressed. He didn’t particularly want to make a bad first impression when he met his new neighbors. He wasn’t too worried about his roommate and suitemates; they seemed like fairly decent people. Well, not massive rampaging transphobes, at least. He hadn’t gone through their Facebooks, so he didn’t actually know that much about them.

He stared at the mirror for a moment, finally deciding on putting his hair up in a ponytail; he would be carrying a ton of boxes, after all. He slipped his finally silent phone into his pocket and headed into the kitchen, scooping Mary up and into her chair, making her giggle.

“Well don’t you look nice,” Martha teased. “Are you planning on there being muchachos guapos to flirt with?”

“Cállate,” he responded without any heat. “There have to be  _ some _ decent looking guys there.” He wasn’t about to explain his main motivation behind looking nice. How was he supposed to explain that he had a gut feeling that he would see his Alexander today? Ever since he had gotten his acceptance letter (and more importantly, the offer of a work study program to cover what his scholarships didn’t), there had been that constant nagging sensation, the same thrill he used to feel when returning to camp and their shared tent. 

Two hours later and that feeling had yet to disappear. If anything, it had managed to get larger on the trip over. However, given that he now had the wonderful task of hauling his boxes up to his room, he didn’t have much time to dwell on it. 

Thankfully, there was an elevator, as the helpful dark-skinned young woman who had given him his key had pointed out. Martha and his dad had gone ahead with a couple boxes while he waited in line, and he hoped they had managed to find the room alright, because he was pretty sure he had left his phone in his bookbag, which was back with his mom and the other kids. 

Fortunately, they were waiting outside of room 1510 by the time he made it up there, flourishing his key dramatically (Martha just rolled her eyes and tapped her foot) before sliding it into the lock. 

“First one here, I guess,” he mused as he stepped into the bare room, setting the box down next to one of the beds. Would it be rude to claim a side before his roommate showed up? Maybe he could ask his suitemates…. This train of thought was interrupted as Martha promptly dropped his box of bedding on the bed and flopped dramatically next to it. 

“You took  _ forever _ ,” she moaned. “I thought my arms were going to fall off.”

“It’s been sitting on the floor the whole time we’ve been up here, mija,” his father pointed out, setting his box down gently next to the previous one. “We can finish bringing the boxes up if you want to start unpacking.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, starting to pull off the tape on his bedding. “That seems like a good idea.” His roommate would just have to deal with having the other bed. Unless he was cute and somewhat not an asshole; then John might consider changing if he asked.

Martha groaned again but followed their dad out of the room. John stuck his tongue out at her as she passed and got flipped off when their dad wasn’t looking.

The sudden voices coming from the room beyond the bathroom made him remember that he had been planning on introducing himself (and asking for bed selection advice). Figuring that now was as good a time as any, he headed over, pausing in the doorway to knock on the doorframe. “Hey, my name’s John Gu- Lafayette!? Hercules!?”

Lafayette stared at him for a moment before rushing over and grabbing him in a moderately painful hug. “Laurens, mon frère. Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

John was about to respond when Hercules started squeezing him as well, and suddenly he didn’t have enough air to say anything. Well, at least he wasn’t living with strangers. 

Just as he thought he might seriously be on the verge of passing out, both drew back. “Look at you,” Lafayette said, his-oh,  _ their _ \- eyes shining. Once again, John didn’t get the chance to answer, though this time it was because his response was cut short by one of his best friends smacking him upside the head.

“ _ Ow _ , Laf, what the hel- Hercules seriously?!” Make that two of his best friends.

“Putain vous pensiez? Hmmm? Running into that débile skirmish?” Lafayette was waving their hands through the air now, getting louder with every word. 

“Seriously, man,” Hercules added, setting a heavy hand on John’s shoulder. “Were you  _ trying _ to get yourself killed?”

“Uhhhhh, yes?” John said sheepishly. Lafayette had had some idea of how depressed John had been, but Alexander had been the only one who really knew the full extent.

Lafayette narrowed their eyes. “Did you just quote that musical at me? Does that  _ really _ seem like a good idea to you right now, Laurens?”

John grinned. “It wasn’t intentional. And it’s Guerra now.”

Hercules snorted. “Yeah, that seems appropriate.” John’s admission finally seemed to catch up to him. “Wait, what the fuck do you mean ‘yes’?!”

“I… had issues. Lots of self-loathing, emotionally abusive dad, internalized homophobia, you know. The works.” John shrugged. He was (usually) in a much better mental place right now. He tried not to dwell on that particular horribly painful portion of his last life.

“Internalized… oh. Hey, since Laf refuses to tell me, were you and Ham-”

“Hey, what was with all the screaming?” A young man with dark, faintly wavy hair and dark-tan skin poked his head in. “Is this going to be a thing with you, Laf, becau- Laurens?!”

“Meade? Seriously?” John let out a surprised laugh, crossing over to hug him tightly. 

Richard returned the hug fiercely. “Yeah, it’s crazy, huh? Wait, are you in room 1510?”

“Yeah,” John said slowly, looking at him suspiciously as Richard pulled out his phone and fired off a text. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Richard responded, turning off his phone before John could see the contact name. He grabbed John’s arm, dragging him fully into the hallway. “Hey guys! Guess who else we’ve got?!”

John smiled as Pierre and Frank poked their heads out of their room…. And then stared in shock as a rush of not-quite-familiar faces rushed into the hallway.

“Edmund? Ben? Caleb? Joseph? Tench?” 

His friend laughed. “It’s actually Teddy now, thank God.”

John didn’t have time to name any of his other comrades before they all decided that they needed to hug him at the same time. When he finally emerged, he saw Richard tapping out another text out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey, so John, quick question-” Joseph started.

“Nooooooooo, no no no,” Teddy interrupted. “We agreed, we don’t ask either of them until everyone has placed their bets.”

“Oh, come on.” Ben complained. “We just wanna know. You  _ know _ Richard and Laf know and just aren’t telling us.”

John was thoroughly confused at this point. “Won’t tell you what? And who the hell do you keep texting?” To prove his point, Richard’s phone pinged as he finished his question, the man in question smirking and and responding before slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Nope. Just wait for it.”

There was a mixture of groans and laughter from the gathering. 

“Can we institute a ‘no references’ rule?”

“ _ Hell  _ no. I vote we keep score.”

“...Now  _ I’m _ confused. What the hell are you guys talking about?”

Lafayette gasped in horror. “Excusez-moi?! You haven’t heard the album yet?!”

“No?”

Hercules groaned. “Who here hasn’t heard the Hamilton album?”

About six hands went up, leading to more shocked gasping and spluttering from Laf. John couldn’t help grinning, shaking his head slightly. God, he’d missed this. “I’ve got it on my phone,” he offered. “If someone’s got an aux cord and some speakers….”

There was a chorus of whoops. Richard just smirked. “Don’t you think we should wait for the man himself to get here?”

John was relatively certain the world didn’t  _ actually  _ stop for a moment while he processed that, but it may as well have. He could barely hear the others responding in delight, but none of it seemed to be registering.  _ Alexander… _ “A-Alex is here?” he managed to get choke out.

Richard opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment the door at the end of the hallway slammed open and he heard a voice say: “Meade, _I swear to_ _God_ if you were messing with me-” before cutting off abruptly with a noise that sounded almost pained. 

John turned around.

***

Alex personally thought that fifteen minutes in line seemed  little long to pick up a key, but so far he had managed not to voice that. Well, not out loud at least. Twitter was currently feeling his wrath, but that didn’t count. 

A new message popped up.

**Message: Dick**

**Dick:** hey u shld get up here nd meet ur roomie

**Alex:** Please stop trying to set me up with people.

**Alex:** Unless he’s really cute. How cute is he?

Okay, seriously now. Logically he knew that the people working the desk were probably working as hard as they could, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to be frustrated. Because  _ really _ , even with fifteen floors to sort through, there couldn’t possibly be justification for it to take this long- oh hell no. 

“¿Esto es una broma? Esto tiene que ser una broma muy mala.”

James peered at him. “¿Qué?”

Yup, definitely a terrible joke. What the fuck had he done to make the universe think this was fair?

Ignoring his brother, Alexander ( _ finally _ ) stepped up to the desk, the dark-skinned man behind it still bent down towards the keys. “Aaron Burr, sir!” 

The man in question froze, then slowly lifted his head. His eyes widened in a way that would have been funny if Alex hadn’t been so pissed off and hurting so bad it was all he could do to stay standing. “Hamilton.”

“C'est moi.” Then he punched him in the face. It probably didn’t hurt quite as much as, say, a bullet to the ribs, but Alexander could throw a punch. “Asshole.”

“Hey, what the-” the dreadlocked young woman behind the desk rushed over, clearly ready to do battle- until she saw Alex, anyway. “Oh. Hi, Alexander. Great seeing you again!”

He nodded and grinned at her, continuing to ignore James and his confusion. “You too, Theodosia. Did I just punch your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, but he deserved it,” she said, glaring at Aaron. 

He raised a hand in surrender, the other going to lightly touch his nose, making him wince. “I freely admit that. And it’s actually Aaron Warren now, in case you wanted to  _ not _ make that reference every time you talk to me.”

“Why, does it annoy you?” Alex asked, trying to seem sincere. Well, not too hard. He heard James sigh behind him.

“Yes, actually.”

“Excellente. It is now my goal to only address you as such, Aaron Burr, sir. Hey, you want to know what annoys  _ me _ ?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “My friend shooting me in a duel that  _ I forfeited _ .”

James sighed louder. “Unless you two are planning on having a rematch, can you please get your damné key so we can go?  _ Some _ of us actually have to carry things.” He gave a pointed look to the large box in his arms.

“Deja de lloriquear. I told maman and papá I could carry stuff, they just won’t let me.” Honestly though, his surgery had been over a month ago. Complications be damned, he could lift stuff now. He turned back towards Theodosia. “Room 1510, please. Should be under Alexander León.”

Aaron snorted. “ _ That’s _ certainly appropriate.” Something seemed to click. “Oh, goddamn it.” He thunked his head down onto the desk (gently, Alex noted with a sense of satisfaction).

“You’re on Aaron’s floor,” Theodosia informed him, passing over his key. “Feel free to call me Theo, by the way.”

Alex accepted his key with a smile. Oh, this year would be  _ fun _ . “Thank you, Theo. I promise not to punch your boyfriend anymore.”

She grinned and waved as he walked towards the elevators. His phone buzzed again.

**Message: Dick**

**Dick:** i think youll like him a lot

Alexander froze. Was he serious?

He just barely saw James frowning in concern at him out of the corner of his eye. “Alex? You okay, kid?”

He didn’t answer.

**Alex:** That’s not funny, Richard.

**Dick:** just get up here

Alex took a deep breath and pushed the up button. Focus on something less painful. “Do you think they revoke scholarships for strangling your RA?” 

“I get the feeling it’s on the list of things not to do, yeah. I thought you said you’d forgiven him.”

Alex sighed as they stepped into the elevator. “Yeah, but then I saw him and now I’m mad again. And my side hurts.” Phantom pains from past lives were fairly common, he knew. He just hadn’t ever had the stimulus to trigger one. And now he got to live with that stimulus. How  _ wonderful _ . “That better not happen every fucking time I see him, or I really might kill him.”

James hummed in thought. “I think it’s supposed to get ‘less severe with repeated exposure’.”

Alex narrowed his eyes at him as the elevator rose. “That’s your quoting voice. Who are you quoting?”

“Nadie.”

“And now that’s your avoidance voice! Is it your girlfriend that may or may not exist because none of us have ever met her?”

Luckily for James, the elevator dinged open on the top floor, where Alex could barely distinguish Richard’s voice from behind the doors to one side. New problem to deal with- possible found boyfriend. Or possible asshole friend who would soon be punched for getting Alex’s hopes up.

He slammed the door open with an angry “Meade, _I swear to_ _God_ if you were messing with me-” before freezing. Was that choked noise his? Did he actually just make that noise in front of James, who would never let him forget?

He was saved from this frantic train of humiliated thoughts as the curly haired boy (who couldn’t possibly be-) turned to reveal a shocked, freckled face with beautiful green eyes. A face that he had never seen before attached to a man who had been filling his dreams since he had his revelation five years ago.  _ His  _ Laurens.

“ _ John _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first- translations (from google translate because I don't speak French and my Spanish is embarassingly rusty)  
> Avez-vous l'écoutez pas- Don't listen to him  
> Vous êtes parfait comme vous êtes.- You're perfect the way you are.  
> Lo prometo.- I promise.  
> NE NOUS LAISSEZ PAS- DON'T LEAVE US  
> muchachos guapos- cute boys  
> Cállate- Shut up  
> mija- term of endearment  
> mon frère- my brother  
> Putain vous pensiez?- What the fuck were you thinking?  
> débile- moronic  
> ¿Esto es una broma? Esto tiene que ser una broma muy mala.- Is this a joke? This has to be a really bad joke.  
> Deja de lloriquear.- Quit whining.
> 
> Now- who's who:  
> Caleb and Ben are Caleb Brewster and Benjamin Tallmadge, who were both part of the Culper spy ring during the Revolution.  
> See here for some of the other members of their floor (who probably aren't going to be actual characters except for maybe Tench/Teddy): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Washington%27s_Aides-de-Camp  
> They aren't ALL on the floor, but quite a few are.  
> I haven't decided on appearances for anyone else yet besides Theo, so feel free to headcanon them however you want until I do. And tell me these headcanons so I can have ideas!  
> Also yes, Alex talks to Hammy exclusively in French. I will be editing the previous chapter to accurately reflect that.  
> Finally, I have finals week this week and my dog is being put down today, so I probably won't have time/feel up to writing for a little while. Sorry about that.  
> Comments make me happier than just about anything else! Thank you so much for reading!  
> I am claire3467 on tumblr! Feel free to stop by my ask or message me to scream about things!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and John finally meet again, with an extra-large portion of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I managed to write scenes that weren't 90% dialogue! Aren't you guys proud of me?
> 
> Also, in case it wasn't clear, my page breaks sometimes just show a switch in POV instead of actual scene changes.

Alex stared, mind racing to take in every detail of the boy in front of him. The boy whose expression of shock and longing had to match his own. The boy who was making his heart ache and sing all at once. The boy who had every cell in his body screaming at him to run to him and hold on tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to leave him like that again. He couldn’t move though, his limbs refusing to obey him out of fear that if he moved, the spell would be broken and his John would vanish again.

Luckily, his darling had no such problem, as he quickly rushed over to embrace him. Alex didn’t even have to think, his arms raising to return the tight hug was as much a reflex for him as breathing. It brought back dozens of past reunions and the feeling of sweet relief that they had both lived long enough to see each other again. He pressed his face closer against John’s neck, the same small part of his brain that had noticed the other people in the hallway now noting that John no longer towered over him. The same part made the connection that this brought John’s lips significantly closer to his own, which would make kissing considerably more convenient. 

The majority of his brain, however, was devoted to memorizing the feel of his Laurens’ arms wrapped around him, the scent of his skin, the way his curls tickled his neck- it suddenly occurred to Alex that he was shaking and that the skin his cheek was pressed against was very wet. Oh God no. 

The first time he had seen his beloved in centuries and he was sobbing. Except now that his brain was actually processing something other than ‘God I’ve missed this’ he realized that John was also shaking, (albeit to a lesser extent than Alex still was since he couldn’t seem to get himself under control) and that the collar of Alex’s shirt was every bit as soaked as he was surely making John’s. Alex smiled and stopped trying to fight the tears, letting himself simply  _ be _ .

Alex couldn’t have said how long they held each other before they both pulled away, in sync as ever. John left his hands on Alexander’s shoulders, smiling at him in a way that was so familiar it almost made him start crying all over again. As much as it made him long to kiss him senseless, the sweet, happy haze of ‘ _ Laurens is alive _ ’ had completely worn away now, and all of the  _ other _ emotions thinking of him usually evoked were rushing back.

When he had received that damned letter, his reaction had been remarkably similar to his reaction today. He had had to read the message three times before the shock wore off and the reality that he was now living in a world where John Laurens didn’t exist set in. His next emotion had not, in fact, been despair. No, that had come after he had nearly destroyed his study in his anger, after the bottle of whiskey to try and dull the pain, just before he had found himself staring down the barrel of his pistol and wondering if it would hurt if he pulled the trigger.

He still wasn’t sure what he would have done if Betsey hadn’t found him.

No, Alexander Hamilton’s second emotion had been pure, blinding (monumentally misdirected) rage. Rage at himself for not being there to tie his idiot lover to his sickbed. Rage at whoever had been in charge for allowing John to leave for that useless skirmish. Rage at the soldier who had dared to take John’s life.

Rage at John Laurens for promising to return to him and then shattering the portion of his heart that was forever reserved for him and him alone.

Alexander Hamilton hadn’t had the opportunity to express that rage constructively (i.e., ranting at whomever had caused it). Alexander L eón did, and as the anger bubbled ever larger inside him, he decided that now was an  _ excellent _ time to make up for that.

John was apparently still just as good at reading him as he had been all those years ago, as his smile was replaced by a somewhat apprehensive expression at what had to be the positively  _ seething _ look in Alex’s eyes. Alexander took a step backward, immediately missing the weight of John’s hands as he took a deep breath.

“ _ ¿¡Qué diablos estabas pensando?! _ ”

***

John was no stranger to his lover’s speeches. He had heard Alexander rant in French, English, and, on one memorable occasion, in very broken and drunkenly slurred Latin. (He had picked up about halfway through that the topic had been Hamilton’s frustration that John was altogether too wonderful and that he had no business making Alexander feel so strongly for him. John had pretended not to remember the next morning. He had been so blind early in their friendship.) The Spanish ranting was new, though. 

“What. The hell. Were. You.  _ Thinking?! _ ” Alex demanded again. John briefly wondered whether Alexander even realized he was speaking Spanish, or if he was simply too angry to know or care.

“You  _ idiot _ . You  _ promised  _ me that you would try to stay alive for me. I know it was a war but  _ goddamit _ John don’t try and pretend that wasn’t intentional! That skirmish meant  _ nothing _ but you just  _ had _ to go and fight, didn’t you?!  _ How could you? _ ”

John opened his mouth, ready to try and interject with apologies that he knew wouldn’t mean nearly enough, but Alex clearly had no intention of giving him a chance.

“I felt part of myself  _ die _ when I got that letter, John. I felt a piece of my heart shatter and close off, you stupid,  _ wonderful _ ,  _ reckless, impulsive, passionate, thoughtless, honor-obsessed- _ ” There were two ways John knew of to make Alexander Hamilton shut up. One of those was to knock him unconscious, which didn’t seem to be the most practical of options at the time. The other was to occupy his mouth in some other way. Kissing had always worked well (provided they were well away from prying eyes), and John was delighted to find that that particular detail hadn’t changed. 

His dear boy melted against him just as he always had, arms immediately locking around his neck to pull him as close as possible. John reveled in the feeling of Alex’s lips against his, idly wishing that they could just stay like this forever. It hit him, then- there was nothing stopping him from kissing Alex as often as he liked. No laws to skirt, no fear of Washington catching them, no gallows looming threateningly. He assumed that Alex came to a similar conclusion as he felt his lover’s lips curl up into a smile. He pulled back, sure that he had a matching goofy grin on his face. He reached up to cup Alex’s cheek. “Yeah, I missed you too, querido.”

Alex just kept grinning at him as he pressed their lips together again. God, he’d missed this.

***

Alex would have happily continued ignoring everyone else in the hall in favor of kissing John for at least another hour, but apparently his new neighbors didn’t share his sentiment. In fact, it probably wasn’t more than thirty seconds into their second kiss before he heard someone say, in a voice loud enough to carry through the entire hallway: “Alright, pay up assholes.”

Alex pulled away, frowning in confusion. He looked at John, who just shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, baby. Our friends are as weird as ever.”

Wait, what?

“Okay, first of all: rude. Second of all: they  _ kissed _ . That proves nothing,” a boy with golden skin and dark brown hair declared. 

“Wait,  _ Tench _ ?!” Alex blurted. He finally looked around at the rest of the gathering (ignoring a half-whined ‘ _ Teddy _ , would everyone please stop calling me that?’). “Holy shit,” he managed, feeling his jaw drop. 

He didn’t recognize everyone in the hall, and didn’t get a chance to examine the ones he didn’t before his vision was partially obscured by a very fluffy ponytail as he was half-tackled into a hug. 

“It’s good to see you again, mon petit lion,” his attacker murmured. The person pulled back to reveal a grinning Lafayette, an unfairly buff Hercules looking over his friend’s shoulder. 

Alex laughed, feeling better about the coming year than he had in months. “I repeat: holy shit.”  He hugged Hercules tightly before quickly locating John and grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together, squeezing tightly. He was rewarded with another blinding smile that made him really want to kiss him again. Then he remembered that there was nothing stopping him from doing so, and leaned in to press a quick kiss against his lips. Thank you, twenty-first century. This led to some absolutely adorable blushing and another goofy smile, and at this point Alex was pretty sure that he was just going to combust because his boyfriend was just  _ too freaking cute _ and still made his stomach do somersaults every single time he looked at him and- 

“See?” Someone- Benjamin- argued. “Look at them, they’re giving me freaking diabetes just from being within six feet of them. They are  _ obviously _ a couple.”

“The betting pool wasn’t about if they were together,” Cato (Jesus, was everyone on this floor from the 1700s?) corrected. “It’s about if they were doing it. Big difference.”

“Okay, I’m sick of this,” Caleb (Alex wasn’t even surprised at this point) declared. “Were you two sleeping together or not?”

“Yeah,” John said at the exact same moment that Alex demanded “Did  _ any _ of you read the damn letters?”

Ben whooped. “Hell yeah! You’re all idiots, now  _ pay up _ .”

Alex let that process for a minute. “You fuckers were  _ betting on us _ ?!” He whirled on Lafayette and Richard. “What is  _ wrong _ with you two?! How could you let this travesty occur?!”

He heard John laugh and turned back to him, feeling a bit of his anger evaporate at the twinkle in his absolutely  _ breathtaking _ eyes. (To be fair, Alex was of the opinion that every part of John was breathtaking, mostly because it was  _ John _ , but still.) “Still have that flair for the dramatic, love?” he teased, the warm affection in his tone making Alex feel like his insides were melting. 

Dear God, there was no way he was going to make it through this year without dying. Although, as deaths went, ‘death from John overdose’ wasn’t the  _ worst _ way to go.

Apparently, James did not agree with him. “Not that I’m not happy for you, hermanito,” he started, ignoring the glare Alex directed his way, “But I still have four more boxes of your shit to carry up here, and if  _ I _ have to make the trip five times,  _ you _ have to make the trip five times.”

Alex felt John’s hand clench tighter around his for a moment. He followed his gaze to the open door of room 1510. “Wait,” he said, turning to stare at Alex with wide eyes. “That’s  _ your  _ room?”

Alex nodded, letting a huge grin split his face. “Yup. Just like old times, isn’t it?”

John fixed him with a smoldering look, his only response being to kiss Alex much firmer than he had before, letting his tongue dart out slightly. Alex fought to ignore the ball of nerves that rose up at the different (though still good, even if it sort of made him want to curl up in a ball and cry) variety of inside-melting-wonderfulness sensation. John knew him too well though and pulled back to give him a concerned look. Alexander was saved from any questioning, however, as a young, indignant voice carried through the hall.

“Okay,  _ seriously _ ?” Alex turned to see the source, a younger girl that looked remarkably like John who was  gesturing in obvious frustration at the two of them. “John’s here for like, ten minutes and he already finds un novio, but I can barely get the girls in my grade to understand that I’m actually  _ flirting _ with them?! Where is the justice?!”

***

John let out an exaggerated sigh, annoyed that he was going to have to wait to ask what had made Alexander look so panicked from just a kiss. 

“Well, to be fair, he kind of cheated,” the man who John assumed was Alex’s older brother (James, then? Man, they looked a lot alike.) informed Martha. 

Alexander rolled his eyes beside him, still clutching his hand like a lifeline. “Cheating’s a bit of a strong word, James.” He was clearly ready to continue arguing (some things never changed), but John dragged him over to his dad instead.

“Dad, Martha, this is Alexander,” he said, glaring at Martha pointedly. A thought occurred to him and he rushed to add, “Not Henry, please don’t punch my papá.”

Alex’s glower vanished instantly as he held out his hand. “Mucho gusto, señor…” he glanced at John.

“Guerra,” he supplied. Alex shook his dad’s hand, then started laughing. John stared at him.

“Sorry,” he said through his giggles, pulling himself together quickly. “It’s just… my last name is León, and I just appreciate that I’m not the only one the universe decided to curse with symbology.”

John’s dad was smiling fondly at Alex (well, John reasoned, he was probably actually smiling fondly at the fact that John was smiling fondly at Alex, but same difference), shaking his head slightly. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Alexander. And please, call me Martín.”

James sighed even louder than John had managed. “Boxes, remember? Lots and lots of boxes.”

Martha groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“Well, we can help,” Hercules offered. 

“Yeah,” Caleb added. “The rest of us already brought all our stuff up, it’s no problem.”

Alex and John looked at each other and shrugged.

“Works for me,” Alex confirmed. He turned to John as they walked toward the elevators, the rest of their hallway following behind. “Ready to meet the rest of my family?”

John glanced at his huge grin suspiciously. “I was, but now I’m a little scared because you seem  _ way _ too enthusiastic.” 

Alexander laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said, his smile melting into something warmer that made John’s heart leap. “They’ll love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I just wanted to let everyone know that Sally Hemings will be appearing in this fic from time to time, and will probably run into Jefferson within the next couple chapters or so. So I'm taking a vote. Would you like her to punch him, slap him, knee him in the balls, or some combination of the above? (I mean, the third one is definitely happening, but I still want your opinions.)  
> Translations:  
> querido- masculine form of dear (For those who don't know, historical!John called Alex 'dear boy' so this is sort of the modernized, Spanish version of that which he will be using a ton)  
> hermanito- little brother  
> un novio- a boyfriend  
> mucho gusto- Nice to meet you
> 
> Cato was Hercules' slave who gathered lots of information for the war effort and was generally bad-ass and awesome. Check out raven_aorla and their Time out of Mind series for more of him (and Pierre and a whole lot of other awesome characters who will probably be showing up at some point).  
> Also, I decided that Teddy is Polynesian. And that Martha is bi with a preference for girls.  
> Comments give me life! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone meets everyone else's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took for-freaking-ever. I apologize for that, but my job is killing me and I just haven't had the energy to write lately. (Making BANK though, so it's worth it.)  
> Here you go! Enjoy!

There were two elevators available, which certainly helped given the number of people heading down to help finish unpacking. In the end, it had been decided that they didn’t really need the  _ entire _ hall to help. Therefore, John (who was still clinging to Alex’s hand tightly enough that Alex felt considerably better about his reluctance to let the other boy out of his sight), Alex, Hercules (who had informed Alex that Hugh was waiting outside to say goodbye and would be thrilled to see Alex again), Lafayette (who had announced their pronouns to the hall and had jokingly threatened to sic an older brother on anyone who purposely messed them up), James (who had cheerfully introduced himself to Alex’s friends and promptly tried to start telling as many embarrassing Alex stories as he could before Alex had kicked him in the shin), Martha (who had tried to do the same regarding John before their father had gently nudged her), and Sr. Guerra (yeah, Alex wasn’t going to do the first name thing yet, at least not in his head). Benjamin, Richard, Caleb, Pierre, Teddy, and a boy John had introduced as Frank. (“You remember me telling you about Kinloch, right? My.... friend from Geneva?” Frank had rolled his eyes, presumably at John’s word choice and politely shaken Alex’s hand.) Plenty of people to get the remaining boxes in one trip, assuming Alex could make himself let go of John’s hand long enough to carry a box, which might not happen. He couldn’t shake the feeling, irrational as it was, that John was going to disappear again if he let go of his hand.

“So…,” Alex started, watching the numbers slowly count down. “You guys realize Burr is our RA, right?”

“Oui,” Lafayette replied, grimacing slightly at the admission as they checked their phone. “Mon papa teaches here. I ran into him far too many times last year.”

John blinked. “Um, did Burr grow a personality this time or something? Who the hell would make him an RA?”

“His parents have donated a decent amount to the school,” Laf responded drily. Everyone ‘ah’ed in understanding.

Hercules hummed thoughtfully. “This could actually be a wonderful opportunity.”

Alex leaned around John to stare at him. “Did Hugh drop you as a baby? How is living with the borderline-psychopath that shot me ‘wonderful’ by any definition of the word?”

Herc held up a hand. “Hear me out. We have a handful of spies, a couple excellent strategists, a fantastic lawyer who can figure out the absolute maximum that we can get away with without getting expelled, and practically an entire hall that’s on your side.  _ We can make his life hell. _ ” He was grinning large enough to be concerning to anyone who didn’t know him- which unfortunately included John’s dad, who was looking at them all with mild apprehension. 

The other three noticed that at the same time Alex did, and all smiled innocently at him. He sighed. “You’re explaining this to your madre if you get in trouble,” he informed John.

James clapped Alexander on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need help hiding the inevitable body.”

Alex glared at him. “Gee. Thanks.”

“Hey, what are big brothers for?”

The elevator dinged just then, which was probably good because he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Sr. Guerra’s first impression of him being while he was bickering with James. They all piled out as the other elevator opened, letting everyone else into the lobby. Aaron and Theo were still manning the desk, and the former stared in obvious horror as Alex and his friends waved cheerfully at him, broad grins devolving into laughter as he smacked his head against the desk hard enough that they heard across the lobby.

“Oh yeah,” Herc laughed, “this is gonna be  _ great _ .”

As he took in John’s laughter and the way it made his eyes sparkle, and how his flushed face made his freckles stand out, Alex had to agree.

***

As John slowly calmed down, he felt Alex’s gaze on him. He turned around, his dear boy’s expression bringing back something Lafayette had said to him when he had first found out about their relationship all those years ago.

_ “He looks at you like he is seeing the stars for the first time.” _

Alex met his eyes, smile warm and soft. They both leaned in, John keeping the kiss chaste, hoping he had guessed right about what had set Alex off earlier. Apparently he had, as there was no panic in Alex’s eyes as they broke away, Alex’s hand staying on his cheek. He let out a soft, breathy chuckle, eyes flicking over John’s face.

“What are you thinking, querido?” John murmured, feeling himself smile slightly.

Alex smiled wider and kissed his nose lightly before pulling back completely and taking his hand again. “Remember how you always used to try and convince me how appealing my freckles were? I just thought you’d want to know that you’ve finally changed my opinion, mon amour.”

John smiled and let himself be dragged along to catch up with the rest of their friends, who had stopped by the door to look back at the two of them with expressions ranging from fond exasperation to clearly overblown disgust.

Hercules groaned as they approached. “Are you two gonna be that fucking disgusting all the time now? ‘Cause I will start carrying a spray bottle to break you two up.”

Alex smiled brightly. “Yep. Since I, you know, actually  _ can _ be disgustingly coupley with John without getting hanged, I plan on taking full advantage of it.” He continued on as Herc opened his mouth to respond. “At least until I get it out of my system. Which may take anywhere from a couple months to a decade or so. We’ll see.” He smiled at John, leaning in to peck his cheek then pulling back to study him. “Your blush makes your freckles stand out, did you know that? Yeah, like that. It’s adorable.”

John was saved from actually catching on fire by James, who grabbed Alex’s arm and started dragging him out the door. “Okay, I’m gonna puke. Be nauseatingly cutesy  _ after _ I’m gone, alright?”

John followed with the rest of their snickering friends, shrugging at his father’s raised eyebrow. Alex had mentioned James very rarely, but he was pretty sure they hadn’t been this close last time. It was making his heart swell to see him so obviously comfortable, though, so he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain about it.

He spotted his mamá balancing a very upset Mary on her hip and talking to a Latino couple with two girls around Jemmy’s age next to a large pile of boxes.

“Hey, maman,” James called, finally having released Alexander. “We brought half the Continental Army to help haul boxes.”

The other woman turned as the two girls (identical twins, John noticed) ran to grab Alex. She raised her eyebrows at the group of kids. “Only half?” she asked dryly. 

“Yeah, we left the other half back up in our hallway,” Alex responded, pulling John over after he finished hugging who John assumed were his sisters. “Maman, papá, this is John.” 

John couldn’t help blushing at the way Alex said his name, and he was sure it didn’t get any better at the knowing look Alex’s parents exchanged. They were going to have to have a serious talk about this, because John couldn’t go around looking like a tomato all the time because Alex insisted on saying things that made his stomach flip around.

Luckily, his love’s parents pretended not to notice and just smiled at him. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John,” his dad said.

“Is he your boyfriend, Alex?” one of the little girls demanded.

“John,” Mary protested, “You’re s’posed to date him first. Martha said so.”

John smiled at her, reaching over to poke her tummy. “Alex and I dated a long, long time ago, chiquita. I’m allowed to call him my boyfriend.” He turned to Alexander. “Alex, this is my mom and mi hermanita Mary.”

His mom smiled and reached over to shake his hand. “Mucho gusto, Alexander.”

“Igualmente,  Señora Guerra.”

She waved that away. “Eleanor, please. John, your brothers ran into some of Jemmy’s friends from school, and are… somewhere.” She raised her voice enough to be heard over the crowd of parents and students moving in. “¡Jemmy, Harry, ven aquí!”

His brothers came running over, frowning as they saw the boxes still stacked nearby. 

“ Mamá,” Jemmy whined, pouting. “You said we could play until it was time to say goodbye to John.”

“ ¿No quieres conocer al novio de John?” Martha asked, handing a box over to Pierre.

Harry gaped at John. “Already? ¿De verdad?”

John elbowed Alex, who was not snickering nearly as subtly as he seemed to think he was. “Who asked you?  _ Any _ of you?”

Alex was smiling and his eyes were sparkling which made it pretty much impossible to stay mad at him, especially when he kissed John’s cheek and murmured an apology that John was pretty sure he didn’t mean.  _ It’s the thought that counts anyway, right? _

“Please stop,” James sighed, plopping one of the smaller boxes into a very startled Alex’s arms. “I just had my dentist appointment; I can’t get cavities right now.”

Alex’s mother glanced at the box in Alex’s arms and frowned. “James-” she warned.

“Je vais bien, maman,” Alex broke in quickly, his expression pleading.

She and her husband shared a look. “Alright, but be careful, d'accord?”

He nodded, nudging John to pick up one of the few remaining boxes so they could head back up.

In the end, the elevator ride back up was even more crowded than before due to there being fewer people but many more boxes. Both the ride up and down were filled with teasing and centuries old inside jokes and the beginnings of a plot against Burr.

By the time they made it back outside, another couple with a young man and woman who John assumed were their children were talking with his and Alex’s parents, all of whom looked mildly bemused. 

Laf suddenly shouted next to him, making Alex jump and mutter something that sounded very insulting (John’s French was pretty rusty, but he had the feeling that was going to be fixed pretty quickly). “Maman! Papa! Regardez qui j'ai trouvé!”

The man turned around and John’s breath hitched as Alex whooped and ran over to Washington, who hugged him tightly. John followed, noting the tear tracks on Washington’s face as he lifted his head and pulled John into the hug as well.

“It’s good to see you boys again,” he murmured, giving them one final squeeze before pulling back to smile at them both. They were then both promptly pulled into a hug with Martha, who John noted was no taller than she had been before. By the time they were released, Lafayette was grinning broadly beside the other members of their hallway, who Washington was now staring at with mild horror. “Oh, dear Lord,” he managed.

They all laughed.

“We promise not to start a revolution without asking permission first, sir,” someone (probably Teddy) shouted.

John grabbed Alex’s hand and squeezed gently before his boyfriend could protest (he didn’t have to look, he  _ knew _ that Alex was getting ready to). Not that he thought his boyfriend would be starting a  _ literal _ revolution, at least not on the scale of what the others were probably referring to. Hopefully.

Alex rested his head against John’s shoulder, smiling softly up at him in a way that made John wonder if they could get away with bailing on all their friends and hole up in their room for the rest of the day, even if it was just to cuddle.  _ Dios, _ he’d missed Alexander.

This train of thought was unfortunately interrupted by Mrs. probably-not-Washington-anymore-now-that-he-thought-about-it gently pointing out that the kids needed to finish unpacking before orientation tomorrow. They all dutifully nodded in agreement, even though John was at least 1000% sure that none of them were planning on doing that. This sparked a round of goodbyes (along with John’s teasing introduction to Herc’s brother Hugh as ‘the gay one’, for which he got a sharp elbow in the side from John, a shove from Alex, and a cheerful reminder from Laf that Herc was, in fact, the only straight one in their little group). Alex’s little sisters were apparently every bit as reluctant to see their big brother leave as Jemmy and Mary were, although all four were eventually convinced to go back home. James ruffled Alex’s hair with a reminder to give him a call if anyone had the nerve to mess with his little brother, Washington let them all know they could come to his office in Fayerweather hall whenever they wanted, and to just ask for George Stratford if they got turned around.

They finally crammed back into the elevators and started heading up to their floor. The brief silence was broken by Hercules casually saying, “So, about listening to that album…” He turned to Alex. “You game, bro?”

Alex just grinned. “Let’s go.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations!  
> Mucho gusto and Igualmente are just nice to meet you and likewise  
> Ven aqui- come here  
> ¿No quieres conocer al novio de John?- Don't you want to meet John's boyfriend?  
> ¿De verdad?- Really? or Seriously?  
> Je vais bien, maman- I'm fine, mom  
> d'accord- Okay  
> Regardez qui j'ai trouvé!- Look who I found!  
> The young adults with the not-Washingtons are Patsy and Jacky Custis, Martha's kids from a previous marriage (both historically and in this fic).  
> Lafayette was adopted by them when they were five years old after Laf's parents died.  
> There's technically no evidence that Lafayette knew about John and Alex, but with how close the three of them were, I find it hard to believe that they wouldn't have just accidentally walked in on the two of them making out or something.  
> Next chapter we'll be meeting some Schuyler sisters, various other fantastic historical ladies that also live in their building for reasons, and a couple of Southern Motherfuckin' Democratic-Republicans. Can't promise when it will be up do to the aforementioned soul-draining job, but I'll do my best! Thanks for reading!  
> Comments literally make me squeal in delight!  
> I'm claire3467 on tumblr, come scream with me! (Or at me, to motivate me to write. Either one.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the most important Schuylers, Angelica is wonderful, Peggy is awesome, and Eliza and Alex have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, you guys! This took forever because (as mentioned before) work was killing both my energy and will to live. But I'm back at school now which, ironically enough, means that I'll have more time to work on this. I've got tons of breaks, so when I'm stuck in the library I'll probably be using this fic to avoid doing homework. Enjoy!
> 
> Warnings: discussions of mental illness (specifically bipolar disorder), infidelity, blink and you miss it reference to sexual harassment, unintentional misgendering of a character
> 
> Also I haven't really edited this, so let me know if you catch anything!

“Alright,” Alex said as John got his phone hooked up to the _very_ nice speakers that they had found in the common room. (“Freaking rich kid schools, man,” Richard had muttered.) “So the first thing you need to know going in is that the storyline really isn't too historically accurate. So don't get mad about that.”

“For example,” Laf interjected, “Burr is likeable. And charismatic. And fairly nice up until he shoots our poor lion.” This was met with many confused looks from those who hadn't listened to the album yet. “I know, I know. I was confused too. But it's much more enjoyable this way.”

“The other thing,” Alex said loudly, mockingly glaring at his friend, “Is that the casting is… okay, so I was about to say ‘not historically accurate’ but now that I'm actually processing people's appearances I think I'm gonna go with ‘frighteningly accurate’ instead.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, coming to sit next to him on the couch. (Alex immediately scooted as close as possible to him as John draped an arm over him. _Mmmmm, he smells nice. Focus, Alex. Focus._ ) “I was a little weirded out when it was just me, but now meeting you guys again, _and_ Washington, _and_ Burr… I'm pretty sure LMM is psychic or something.”

“... What,” Ben deadpanned.

“Why haven't you listened to it?” Alexander demanded. “I thought we were friends, Tallmadge.”

“Well, have you watched _Turn_?” Caleb asked grouchily.

“No, because I heard it was a clusterfuck of apathetic historical inaccuracies. _Hamilton’s_ inaccuracies are by design. There's a _difference_.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Ben decided. “It's pretty bad. Hilariously so, actually.”

“Like I said. Now, back to _me_. Time to play guess who. Hit it, John.”

***

_“I'm the damn fool that shot him.”_

“I figured that one out,” Caleb announced cheerfully.

“That one doesn't fucking count,” Alex growled while simultaneously seeing if he could get any closer to John without actually sitting on his lap.

***

_“Two pints of Sam Adams but I'm workin’ on three!”_

“Awwww, it's little drunk Laurens!” Cato cooed.

“Excuse you, I was _not_ that much of a lightweight,” John corrected, frowning at Alex, who had wrapped an arm around his waist and was currently moving that hand dangerously close to his ass considering that they weren’t alone. His boyfriend smiled innocently but moved his hand back to stroke lightly along John's waist, resting his head against John's shoulder.

***

“Poor little friendless Alexander,” Richard sighed.

“Some things never change,” Hercules agreed.

Alex threw a pillow at him. (Seriously, what kind of common room has _throw pillows_ , for fuck’s sake?)

***

“Man, you guys are _plastered_ ,” Teddy laughed.

“Yeah, weren't you listening? We've had like five shots and several rounds of beer at this point.”

“I'm just amazed that Alex is still upright.”

“Fuck off.”

***

_“There's nothing rich folks love more than going downtown and slumming it with the poor.”_

“Ooh, this is where we meet Eliza and Angelica and… Margaret? What was the other one’s name?”

_“And Peggy!”_

“Oh, right!”

“You're an ass, Ben,” Alex said absently, glancing towards the doorway just as three girls appeared. The one in pale blue locked eyes with him and the world fell away just as it had the first night he saw her. The swirl of emotions (longing, pain, guilt, complete and utter _joy_ ) was so intense that he barely even registered the smallest one charging at him and hugging him tight, and it took her shaking him before he finally looked down at a widely grinning Peggy, unable to stop himself from smiling. “Hey, Pegs.”

Peggy waved to everyone assembled (someone had paused the music and the crowd was instead entertaining themselves with the reunion) and dragged him over to his Betsey. He lifted a hand to gently brush at the tears streaming down her cheeks, wishing she would hug him, slap him, yell, laugh, _anything_. The tears only came faster as he hesitantly embraced her, resting his chin on her shoulder. She still hadn't moved since they had spotted each other.

“I'm so sorry, Betsey,” he murmured. “You deserved so much better. I am so damned _sorry_.”

That seemed to finally unfreeze her, as he suddenly felt her arms wrap around him even tighter than Laf had managed. “Damn right,” she whispered, barely audible through her tears. “I missed you.”

He hugged her tighter. He had a lot to make up for, after all.

They held each other for several long minutes before Alexander pulled back just enough to press a light kiss to her cheek. His lips barely touched her, however, before she stiffened and stepped away from him. He blinked at her in confusion, but didn't have more than a second to process it before Angelica was smacking him upside the head.

“That was for cheating on my sister,” she snapped, hand darting forth to hit him again. “And _that_ was for getting yourself killed.” She pulled him into the stranglehold that everyone seemed to be considering a hug. “Dumbass.”

He managed a grin, still trying to process Eliza’s actions. “Good seeing you again too, Angelica.”

“Are you planning on actually introducing us, Hammy?” Teddy asked.

He turned to glare at them all. “I wouldn't _need_ to introduce you if any of you shitheads had actually _come to my wedding_.”

There was a long silence that was eventually broken by McHenry, who piped up with: “ _I_ showed up.”

Someone (Alex couldn't see who, but it was probably Caleb) responded, “Hey, if I'd realized that Ham was giving out threesomes as door prizes…”

Alex was pretty sure his face was at least as red as John's was, and he could see that Eliza was in a similar state. Really, why did his friends have to be like this? In front of his wife of all times? Why did they have to pick right now? Granted, she wasn't his wife anymore technically, but that didn't change the fact that it was just plain rude.

He could hear his other friends continuing to tease him, but it wasn't exactly a priority in his mind as Betsey leaned in and murmured “Can I talk to you? Alone?” To be honest, a meteor could have hit the school and he wasn't sure he would have noticed. Between finding his Laurens _and_ his angel in the same day, he was sort of on happiness overload. Or was that…. Crap.

But that was something to worry about later, when he wasn't standing before this utterly amazing woman that he owed so much.

“Of course.”

She took his hand and led him into the hallway.

***

John was trying not to feel jealous. Really, he was. He knew how much Alexander loved his Betsey (he hadn’t met her last time, but it was fairly obvious who the girls were), had seen it in the way his eyes lit up when he talked about her, the way his voice changed to that dreamy tone. He knew that they loved each other, that they had to have missed each other horribly and that it had nearly been as long for them as it had for John.

He knew that none of it changed the fact that Alex loved him, too. He _knew_ that, dammit. But _God_ ….

He still couldn’t completely silence the voice screaming that she had had twenty-four years with him; couldn’t he have more than an hour?

He shook his head slightly, hoping that would dislodge some of the thoughts. He was about to go introduce himself when suddenly Eliza was pulling Alex into the hallway, her sisters watching them go with a knowing look.

He felt sick.

Their friends continued jeering after them, Angelica (he was assuming, by process of elimination) rolling her eyes at them. Only Lafayette seemed to notice how hard he was struggling not to- cry, scream, throw up, all three? He didn’t even know.

His friend leaned in close and gently murmured, “Are you alright, mon ami?”

_Not really, no._

“I'm fine,” he gritted out.

He was saved from further questioning as Angelica spotted Laf, suddenly beaming and heading straight for them. They hugged tightly, murmuring back and forth in French for several minutes while John tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. Angelica pulled away, turning to acknowledge John for the first time.

“Angelica Davis. Nice to finally meet you, John Laurens.” There was a knowing glint in her eye that made John wonder, not for the first time, just how much the Schuylers had known about his relationship with Alex.

“Likewise. It’s Guerra now, actually,” he said shaking her hand and trying to fight down the weirdness of casually introducing himself to his boyfriend’s past sister-in-law.

Angelica smiled politely, then suddenly glowered as one of the other boys made a particularly rude comment about what Eliza and Alexander were presumably getting up to. And he had been doing such a good job of fighting down the nausea.  

“Right, so two things,” Peggy announced, voice cutting cleanly through the rest of them. “One, just to get it out of the way- I use they/them pronouns, misuse at risk of serious personal harm. Two, I’m roughly 190 percent sure that right about now Eliza is telling our dear Ham that she’s gay. So shut up.” They paused for a moment. “Well, okay, so actually homoromantic ace, but still. No boys.”

John wanted to kick himself for the relief that washed over him at that, hoping that his expression didn’t give him away. Judging by how Angelica looked at him, it probably did. Great.

“So…” Peggy began casually (when had they moved over to John?), “How long have you and Alex been together? This time and last, please, I want details. Eliza won't tell me _anything_ ,” they finished with a sigh.

“Um, about 4 years before, and like… an hour this time? I think? We all literally _just_ ran into each other again.”

They glared impatiently at him. “ _Details_ , man! _All_ the juicy details.”

His face must have been quite the sight, because they suddenly grinned and let out a quick peal of laughter. “I'm only teasing, don't worry! I'll just ask Hamilton,” they finished slyly.

“Just ask Hamilton what?” Alex asked as he and Eliza walked back in.

***

Betsey led him down the hallway until his friends’ voices were barely audible. His head was still reeling so much he honestly had no idea how long it had been or how far they had walked and yeah, he really needed to stop forgetting his fucking medication. Had he even taken it yesterday? He needed to coun- It registered (far too late) that Betsey had been talking, and was now giving him that same fond, mildly exasperated smile that had been dancing through his memories ever since he was 14.

He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I was…”

“Lost in thought?” she finished for him. She laughed lightly in a way that made his heart ache and shook her head at him. “Some things never change, do they?”

“It’s better now,” he rushed to reassure her, “I’m taking-”

He must have sounded more panicked than he realized, because her face suddenly tightened with worry and she leaned forward to rest her hands on his shoulders. “Hamilton, darling, relax; I was just teasing. Are you alright?”

He sighed. “Yeah- I… Yeah. Sorry.”

She smiled at him, warmer yet still worried. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

He let out a huff of laughter at that. “Tú merece más disculpas que yo pueda darle.” He lifted one of her hands up, intending to kiss her palm, but she suddenly yanked her hand away. He blinked at her in confusion. “Betsey?”

“I’m gay.”

***

 _Well, that could have gone better._ Eliza _really_ hadn’t meant to say it like that. She had seen it in his eyes when he saw her again: he was still in love with her. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She still loved him, she just wasn’t _in love_ with him. Not anymore. The last thing she had wanted to do was hurt him, but all the gentle, casual kisses were setting off alarm bells in her brain. _It’s just Alex_ , she scolded herself. _He’d never try to do that._ He didn’t look up to doing much of anything, honestly, other than maybe curling up in a ball for a little while. He whispered something to himself in what she assumed was Spanish, wrapping his arms tight around himself.

“Alexander?” she asked gently, wondering if there was anything she could do to help him. This didn’t seem the same as one of his attacks when a particularly bad storm came through, or his fear whenever she or the children got sick. She wasn’t sure what to do to help him through this, or even if she could.

“I, did I, did we,” he seemed unable to find the words, morphing her concern into mild distress. He finally took a deep breath and seemed to force the words out as fast has he could. “Did I force you?” He finally met her eyes, looking like a dog that expected to be kicked.

 _Did he…?_ Eliza gasped, practically shouted out “ _No!_ ” She calmed down enough to more gently add on (wrapping her arms around him as she did so), “No, Hamilton. You never made me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

She could tell the exact moment he processed her words, because his arms came up to wrap around her as he buried his face in her neck. He murmured something after a while, too muffled by her shirt to make out. “What?”

He pulled away, searching her face for some kind of sign. “We can still be friends, right?”

She felt her face split into a huge smile. “Absolutely. Just… no kissing, okay? It’s not you, it’s just that-”

“Of course,” he rushed, squeezing her hands. “You don’t have to explain. Let me know when I make you uncomfortable, d’accord?” He finally smiled when she nodded, almost immediately fading into a sheepish expression. “Um, speaking of explanations, I kinda owe you a couple.”

Eliza slid down to sit against the wall, pulling him with her and leaving their hands together. “You don’t have to.”

He let out a little huff of laughter at that. “Yeah, I really, _really_ do. So, uh, you know how I mentioned Laurens-”

“I found the letters, Hamilton,” she interrupted gently. “You don’t have to explain anything about the two of you that you don’t want to.” Not to mention that she didn’t particularly want to hear anything about the details of her husband’s other relationships.

“Okay,” he paused. “I guess the short version of it then is that I was/am bisexual, and I was polyamorous- Not that I’m using that as an excuse for anything I did!” He added on hastily. “This is going to be a lot of ‘explanations aren’t excuses’ type stuff.”

She smiled at him. _Good._ “Was that him in the common room?”

He smiled again, large enough to light up the room. Even if she didn’t feel that way anymore, it was so easy to remember how she had fallen for him all those years ago. “Yeah, we’re roommates, can you believe it?” He sighed happily. “Um, so here’s the part where I’d like to reiterate that I’m not using this as an excuse.” He worried his bottom lip for a moment.

She waited. She and Angelica had their theories on certain things, and she had a pretty good idea what he was about to tell her.

He took a deep breath. “I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 when I was 15.” The words started coming faster. “And I don’t know for sure that I had it last time because obviously there wasn’t a diagnosis, but I feel the same as I did then, and I _know_ it’s not an excuse and I don’t expect you to forgive me, you don’t even have to say anything, but one of the symptoms of mania is really poor decision making skills and hypersexuality can also be a thing and _God_ , Betsey I’m so sorry-”

“Alexander!” she had been getting progressively more worried as he kept talking, and she had to gently shake him to get him to stop. “It’s okay. It’s okay, darling.”

He ducked his head for a moment. “And I just realized that I forgot to take my medication the last few days ‘cause I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No, you’re not.” They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, Hamilton getting his breathing back under control, if the slow, deep breaths were anything to go by.

“So, you’re gay?” She gave him a look. He shrugged. “Yeah, sorry, that was a pretty bad conversation starter. I’m out of practice.”

She rolled her eyes. “I doubt that. And I’m homoromantic asexual, actually, but I’ve gotten into the habit of just blurting out gay because it tends to make creepy guys go away faster.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and then winced. “Shit, I must have really been making you uncomfortable then. Sorry.”

She elbowed him lightly. “Platonic hugs and cuddling and holding hands is fine for you. You’re the exception to my general ‘boys need to keep several feet away at all times’ rule.”

Something about that made him flinch again, but before she could ask what he was already standing, holding his hand down to help her up. “They’re probably wondering what’s taking us so long. Plus, like none of them have listened to the soundtrack, which is absolutely unacceptable. We’re trying to rectify that issue.” His gaze suddenly turned suspicious. “ _You’ve_ listened to it, right? Do the Schuyler sisters”- sung off key enough to make her giggle- “regularly do karaoke to it? I can never get my brother to go along with that, and my sisters remind me immediately that I can’t sing worth crap.”

“Davis siblings,” she corrected idly. “Sometimes.”

He stopped walking for a moment. “Who have I been mentally misgendering?” Now he looked like a dog who thought he _deserved_ to be kicked.

“Peggy’s nonbinary. They don’t get mad at accidental mistakes, promise,” she added, since he still seemed unconvinced.

He looked ready to say something else, but they were now close enough to hear the person in question’s voice insist that they’d just ask Alex.

“Just ask Hamilton what?” he asked as they walked back into the room.

Laurens looked like he had just been saved from drowning. He rushed over to Hamilton. “They want you to tell them the _details_ of our relationship. Please don’t.”

Hamilton shrugged, lacing his fingers through John’s. “Okay.”

Eliza laughed at Peggy’s shriek of outrage. “Besides, Peg,” she added. “You’re about twelve, so-”

“I’m a year younger than you!”

“Same difference, really,” Hamilton said as Angelica nodded in agreement. He turned away so that Peggy couldn’t see the playful smile on his face, though Eliza caught it. “So, where were we?”

“I’ll restart the song,” Herc responded, moving over so Peggy could have room on the couch.

_“There's nothing rich folks love more than going downtown and slumming it with the poor.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tú merece más disculpas que yo pueda darle.- You deserve more apologies than I can give you.
> 
> Historically, Alexander called Eliza both Eliza and Betsey (along with lots of gooey petnames, 'his angel' among them), while Eliza called him Hamilton (lots of 'my Hamilton' in letters, because they're fucking awful).  
> There actually is quite a bit of historical evidence that Hamilton had some form of mood disorder like Bipolar (which obviously can't be confirmed). Other symptoms of mania include not sleeping, excessive, unstoppable talking (six-hour speech, anyone?), etc. Y'all know how to google.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! As always, I'm claire3467 on tumblr, feel free to chat!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More soundtrack and lots more shipping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, the introduction of a woman who I promise will be kept 10000000 feet away from TJeffs for 99.99999% of her time in this fic, and a woman who gets screwed over/written out of many fanfics.

_ “Burr you disgust me.” _

_ “So you’ve discussed me. I’m a trust fund baby you can trust me.” _

Angelica just rolled her eyes as many of the boys stared in confusion at the speakers. 

“When did Burr get… smooth?” McHenry asked in confusion.

“Never,” Angelica responded drily. 

Before Alexander could ask, Betsey was already leaning over to murmur in his ear. “They’re in the same year. He kept flirting with her until Theo transferred last semester.”

“What made him think that would actually work?”

She shrugged. “I think it’s fairly clear by now that he doesn’t actually think things through very well.” She straightened back up. 

Alexander was currently snuggled tightly against John’s side, with Betsey (he had asked if he could still call her that, and she had laughed and told him she didn’t mind) on his other side. Meaning that he was currently in a favorite people sandwich, which had done an excellent job of sorting out the mixed emotions this musical had a tendency to bring out. John had glanced at him curiously when he came back from his talk with Eliza, but he hadn’t asked. 

Alex would tell his friends eventually, he had just found that the bipolar bomb wasn’t a great thing to drop immediately. Nor was the trans… torpedo, maybe? Yeah, that was good. He’d have to write that down. Bi bombs and tra- 

“Hey, who’s this guy supposed to be?”

“He and Alex yelled back and forth at each other via the newspaper,” John said dismissively.

“ _ That _ narrows it down.”

“Har de har,” Alex responded as dryly as possible. “Truly, you are a master of comedy, Brewster.”

“Did you even  _ have _ a dog, dude?”

“Is the commentary ever going to stop?” Peggy asked, glancing up at him from where they were sitting against the couch.

“It hasn’t so far,” he responded.

“You learn to tune it out,” John reassured them.

***

“Da dada da da. Da dadada dayada. Dada da da dayada.”

Caleb and Ben turned to stare at John. 

“The fuck, dude?” Caleb finally asked.

“It’s supposed to be ‘British Invasion’ style music,” Alex answered for him. “Just picture him skipping around the stage, it makes it even better.”

***

“ _ George Washington! _ ” screamed a solid ninety percent of the room along with the music, to the utter horror of everyone who hadn’t listened to the song before. Ben, in fact, yelped and twitched so hard he fell against Caleb. Hercules, Alex, and Cato laughed so long that John made the executive decision to pause the music until they had quieted down. Which, interestingly enough, lasted almost as long as it took for Caleb and Ben to move back to their original positions.

***

“ _ We’re reliable with the ladies! _ ”

“Yeah, I’ve got a question about that,” a British accented voice piped up from the doorway. Several of them turned, and Eliza noticed John freeze as they all took in the (presumably Indian? She didn’t want to be one of those people who assumed, but to be honest most of her brain cells were currently being overrun with  _ Pretty girl let’s stare at her and hope she notices us _ .) girl who was now striding into the room, long hair floating majestically behind her, dark eyes flashing menacingly, glossy lips set into a snarl, and  _ stop staring you’re going to look like a creep _ . It probably didn’t matter, as the girl didn’t even glance at anyone other than John, who had now stood up and looked like he was seriously considering jumping out the window.

The girl stopped right in front of him, gave him a once over, and then promptly slapped him. Not in the gently reproving way that Angelica had hit Hamilton, either. John’s head snapped to the side as the girl planted her hands on her hips. “Anything you’d particularly like to say,  _ dear husband _ ?”

Eliza heard Alexander let out a little  _ oh _ of understanding, but her mind was trying to wrap itself around the fact that her roommate was named Martha, and if she remembered right-

“Hi, Martha,” John sighed. “Sorry. For everything.”

_ Oh God I’m going to die. _

“Care to specify,  _ darling _ ?”

He winced. “For getting you pregnant, for leaving the country, for not telling you I was in France, for getting myself killed and leaving Frances orphaned, for using you to try and prove a point to myself-”

Martha held up a hand. “That one you don’t need to apologize for. We were both drunk, and both pulling the exact bloody same stunt.”

Peggy immediately turned around and waggled their eyebrows at Eliza. She responded by kicking them in the side as subtly as she could manage. At this point, she was pretty torn between if she wanted this breathtaking girl to be her roommate or not. On the one hand, she could stare at her more and maybe even figure out how to speak to her, but on the other hand she might just combust before that happened.

John groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Wow. Okay. Still sorry though.”

Martha finally smiled, stepping forward and hugging him tightly. “Dumbarse.”

He hugged her back. “Agree to be best friends again, then? Without benefits?” He managed a small smile.

She snorted and stepped back. “Definitely not the word I would use. Which brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to the room at large. “Is John meant to be included in that ‘reliable’ statement? Because that is  _ not _ the word I would pick.”

Alexander finally let a small laugh slip as John turned bright red, dropping back onto the couch and burying his face in his hands. Alex snuggled back against his side, cooing to him in Spanish.

Martha scanned the room for a seat as Eliza tried to subtly move over enough that she could sit next to her. It worked, as Martha smiled cheerfully at her.  _ Yeah, I’m going to die. _ “This seat taken?” she asked.

“Nope!” Eliza squeaked, praying Martha didn’t notice. 

“Lovely!”  _ Yes you are. _ Martha held out her hand. “Martha Pandya. Delighted to meet you.”

Eliza forced herself to move, shaking Martha’s hand  _ oh god her hands are so soft get it together Eliza _ . “Eliza Davis. I think we’re rooming together?”

The other girl beamed. “Room 1411?” Eliza nodded. “Wonderful!” She leaned around Eliza to peer at Alexander curiously. “Would you happen to be the guy my husband was sleeping with?”

“Uh….”

She waved a hand. “Oh, trust me, I don’t really care, I wasn’t exactly  _ loyal _ either. Don’t look at me like that,” directed towards a still gawking Ben and Caleb “John had his pretty boys in America, I had my pretty girls in England.” She paused for a moment, then swung back to face Eliza. “So, were you  _ his _ wife?”

Eliza smiled sheepishly. “Um, yeah, I was.” Should she have put emphasis on that last word? Would that have been too forward? It wasn’t like she had a lot of experience coming out to gorgeous girls that she had just met.

Martha leaned forward and rested her hand on Eliza’s shoulder and gave her a sympathetic look. Eliza prayed that her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “You poor thing. You  _ definitely _ deserved better.” She leaned away with a slight smirk and  _ oh my God did she just wink at me I am going to DIE _ .

***

Angelica suddenly let out a whoop of delight and sprang from her seat, racing towards the door. “Back in a second, don’t you dare start it up again!”

Alex stared. “Where’s she going?”

“Probably her girlfriend,” Peggy responded. “Hey, take a selfie with me.” 

Alex leaned into frame and obligingly made a face along with them, as Richard asked, without a trace of condemnation in his tone, “Am I the only straight person here?” 

“Nah man,” Hercules responded. “I’m with you.”

Ben and Caleb said nothing, and Alexander was about to interrogate them about that when Angelica came back, fingers interlaced with another girl’s, this one with a short afro and wide smile. 

“Oh my God we actually get to meet mystery girl!” Peggy squealed, leaping to their feet and running over. 

Angelica rolled her eyes. “This is Sally. And for the last time, you haven’t met her because we weren’t that serious last semester, stop calling her that.”

Sally bumped her shoulder against Angelica. “Loosen up, Ange.” She had a slight Southern accent. “Nice to meet you, Peggy. Angelica’s told me lots about you.”

“Really? Cause she’s told us pretty much no-”

“Okay!” Angelica interrupted, clamping a hand over Peggy’s mouth. “Sally, are you okay with listening to this, or…?”

She shrugged. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks though, honey.”

“Great!” Peggy responded cheerfully. “You’re just in time to hear Eliza sing about a night that never happened, followed shortly by your girlfriend singing about a crush that never existed!”

Angelica groaned as Sally dragged her over to a chair, squishing in together. Alex snuggled closer to John’s side in preparation. This was going to hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I've seen so many fics of Angelica and Sally Hemings dating that I now lowkey ship it. So here. And I promise that after his aforementioned smackdown Jefferson will not be allowed anywhere near her. Because I am the author and I can do what I want.  
> Look, I love the John-as-single-dad trope as much as anyone, but Martha Manning and John Laurens were good friends before that whole sleeping together fiasco and she wrote to him quite a bit after he left for America (he did not return the favor), so it really bothers me in fanfics when she gets written off as a one night stand before getting killed off by forces unknown so John gets a baby. (Not saying anything about people who write that, it's just a pet peeve of mine.) There is no evidence I know of for her having been a lesbian, but I don't care so here you go they are gay bffs.  
> Poor Eliza. She can't function around pretty girls who keep flirting with her.  
> As always, I'm claire3467 on tumblr, feel free to come talk!  
> Thanks for reading, let me know if you liked it! Comments seriously make me squeal with delight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of Act 1 with extra gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a really long time since I updated this, but this is the first week I haven't had an exam since I updated, so.... I apologize, but this is just going to be really sporadic for at least this semester. (Because my exam schedule is AWFUL.)

_ “Down for the count and I’m drowning in ‘em!” _

As the wedding march played and Eliza lightly ruffled a very uncomfortable-looking Alexander’s hair, Martha posed a question that John was fairly sure she had been sitting on for some time. “Were his eyes really that great? Or is this meant to be a metaphor for something?”

“Eyes,” John and Eliza answered immediately. They glanced at each other and John smiled slightly. As much as he had disliked the idea of her last time, it was hard to hold a grudge against her now. She might have been one of the most instantly likeable people he had ever met.

It was easy to see how Alexander had fallen for her.

“Seriously,” he said in response to Martha’s skeptical look. “He had, like, Mary Sue eyes. Really deep blue, very easy to get distracted by.”

Alex smiled playfully at him at that, leaning up to peck him on the lips.

_ “A toast to the groom!” _

Alex dropped back down with a groan, tucking himself under John’s arm as if he could just hide under there until the song was over. 

Angelica laughed, snapping a picture of him as John lightly rubbed between his shoulderblades. 

“See, Ham,” McHenry said, smirking. “This is why you don’t flirt with everything that moves.”

Alex looked up, presumably saw that McHenry was out of kicking range, and dropped his head back, grumbling that he had flirted with John plenty and hardly any historians had managed  to pick up on  _ that _ .

***

_ “There’s hope for our ass after all!” _

“Sorry,” Martha interjected. “But do I not exist here?”

Eliza saw John shrugging sheepishly as Ben commended him on his ‘extremely no homo’ best man’s speech.

Burr appeared in the doorway, obviously ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. “Could you please turn it do-”

_ “You are the worst, Burr!” _

He sighed, waved to Angelica, and disappeared again.

“I’m the RA for the floor below here,” she explained at Alexander’s betrayed look. “I’m not voluntarily consorting with the enemy, Alex. Stop doing the kicked puppy face.” 

_ “Theodosia writes me a letter every day.” _

Everyone fell silent.

***

Alex couldn’t help but sigh happily as the song ended. 

“John, aren’t you excited?” Lafayette asked. “We’re about to meet your most favorite person in all the world!”

John glowered at them, moving to cross his arms. Alex whined as he was dislodged and grabbed John’s arm to keep him in the best possible pillow position. He glared at John and Lafayette (and, really, most of the room) as he gripped John’s arm tighter.

“Do  _ not _ remind me of that stupid duel.” He turned his glare back at John. “I did everything I could think of to keep you from getting killed, and then you turn around and want to go another round!”

John’s expression softened and he kissed the top of Alex’s head. “I’m sorry, querido.” His voice lowered as he switched to Spanish. “I’m doing much better now, I promise. You don’t have to worry about me this time around.”

Alex studied his face for several moments before he allowed his lips to twitch up into a smile. “Good.”

_ “Raise a glass!” _

***

_ “It’s the ten duel commandments.” _

“Hey,” John asked. “Does anyone know what the staging is like for this? Like, where do I aim? I have a reputation to protect, you know.”

“Yeah, you point right at him,” Peggy responded. “He basically has to be carried offstage.”

“At least,” Eliza added, “that was how they staged it when we saw it.”

Alex’s head shot up, once again looking very much like someone had murdered a puppy right in front of him. “You’ve  _ seen it _ ?! I hate you. I’m never talking to any of you again.” He burrowed back into John’s side, pouting as John rolled his eyes.

At Martha’s questioning look, Eliza murmured, “I give him five minutes, tops. He just has to be as dramatic as possible at all times.”

Martha smirked in a way that made Eliza’s face heat up. Sally was pre-med, wasn’t she? Maybe she should ask if it was safe to be blushing this much.

***

_ “Call me son one more time!” _

“So, having actually met Washington, I have to say: I don’t see you actually living more than about ten seconds after saying that,” Sally commented.

“Yeah, no.” Came from about ten different people scattered around the room.

***

_ “How long have you known?” _

“Is it bad that it took me a really long time to realize that I was pregnant in this scene?” Eliza whispered.

“I didn’t get it until you actually mentioned a child,” Alex responded. “So I’d say no. Is it more obvious on stage?”

She nodded. “Pippa’s wearing a pregnancy belly and you keep staring at it and tearing up. It’s really sweet.”

He smiled sadly at her as she squeezed his hand gently.

***

_ “LAFAYETTE!” _

Ben and Caleb caught on fairly quickly this time and shouted along with everyone else in the room, Lafayette hopping up on a table and bowing as Daveed’s part ended.

John chucked a pillow at them. “You  _ wish _ you were that cool.”

“You know,” a heavily accented voice said from the door. “The first time I heard the intro to this song, I really thought it was going to be about me.”

Eliza turned and honestly may not have recognized the man standing at the door unless Pierre and shrieked and tackled him into a hug just as Alex and John whooped and got up to hug him as well. 

“Friedrich, how’s it going, man?” John laughed, accepting the bear hug from the man who (if Eliza had to guess) was probably 24 or so.

“Twenty-first century is pretty awesome, I’ve gotta say,” he responded, hugging Alexander just as tightly (and with considerably less fondling than Pierre had gotten). “I mean, so far I haven’t gotten exiled for being gay, so that’s already going better.” He accepted Pierre’s phone, presumably tapping his contact info into it as he talked. “Listen, I’ve got to go prepare for my classes, but Pierre’s got my number, I’ll let you know my office hours. Come by anytime, okay?”

He kissed Pierre lightly and waved as he walked out.

“He’s… exuberant,” Martha finally commented.

“I think the word you’re looking for is  _ flaming _ ,” John corrected. “Ah, damn, we missed the next song. We gotta go back.”

_ “I was younger than you are now…” _

***

_ “Laurens is in South Carolina, redefining brav’ry.” _

“Presumably as ‘idiotic suicidal recklessness’,”Alexander grumbled.

John kissed the top of his head. “Would it help if I apologized?”

“Not really.” He smirked up at him. “More kisses might, though.”

John could manage that.

***

_ “I’m so blue!” _

“Is he… throwing a tantrum?” Sally asked.

“Yeah, he’s stomping and pouting,” Angelica responded.

“I still hate you guys.”

“That’s nice, Alex.”

***

_ “When you smile I am undone, my son.” _

Eliza found Hamilton’s hand and squeezed tightly. 

“Hey,” Hercules piped up. “Anyone wanna know a fun fact about this song?”

Everyone stared at him.

In typical Hercules fashion, he ignored them and went ahead. “He wrote it the week they got their dog.”

Alex let out a little snort of laughter at that, casually wiping at his tears before they had a chance to fall.

Nobody commented.

***

_ “Don’t forget to write.” _

“Hey, Angelica, you really should have told me we were having an affair. I would have thrown in more innuendos.”

The look she gave him could have frozen liquid steel. He shrank back slightly. “Betsey, please tell your sister not to murder me.”

“Hey, wait,” Caleb suddenly blurted after a minute, staring at the speakers in confusion. “Laurens is dead.”

“Nope,” Alexander responded.

“Yes he is! That’s why he was in South Carolina, right? So he could die down there.”

“Nope.”

“The hell do you mean, ‘nope’?!”

“It’s not on the album, therefore it didn’t happen, because I don’t like it. The end.”

_ “I am not throwin’ away my shot!” _

“I guess that’s a good place to pause,” John said. “Anyone need a bathroom break before the feelings attack?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is me- I legitimately did not realize my first time listening that Laurens was dead until Hamilton saw him on the other side (and was very confused as to when my small angry son died).   
> So, von Steuben (yep, that was him popping in for thirty seconds to fondle Pierre, be exceedingly gay, and leave), if you didn't know, was the guy they called in from Germany to whip their troops into shape and was really probably a good portion of the reason we won. He was also so gay that he was essentially kicked out of multiple countries in Europe, which is probably most of the reason why I never heard of him in school- EVER. (No, I didn't do APUSH.) He also had about a dozen boyfriends who were all considerably younger than him (like, young adults, in case you got the wrong idea from that). Pierre was one of them. The age gap was a lot bigger in real life, but I don't feel comfortable writing that (I can read it, but I can't write it. No I don't know why.). Feel free to imagine that Friedrich is actually ten years older if you wish. He will be showing up more, but if I let all the characters I'm introducing talk for five hours I won't finish the songs until chapter twenty.  
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos make my day!  
> I'm claire3467 on tumblr if you wanna talk!

**Author's Note:**

> The (incredibly gay) letter John reads is here: http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0100  
> I highly recommend it if you haven't read it.  
> A few notes about the characters:  
> I am using the musical appearances; John is Latino, I just didn't mention it anywhere.  
> Frank is Francis Kinloch, who historical!Laurens met in Geneva (and probably had a crush on). He is black in this fic. (I have very little intention of making anyone historical characters white.)  
> Pierre is Pierre-Étienne du Ponceau, secretary to Baron von Stuben, who historical!Laurens met during the Revolution. In this fic, his father is French-Canadian and his mother is Chinese (so he speaks French, Mandarin, and English).  
> Google them if you wanna know more.  
> In regards to the universe, once people have their revelation, they can recognize people as their past lives (so Pierre recognized John as being Laurens after he had his revelation).  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!  
> I am claire3467 on tumblr, feel free to message me or drop by my ask to scream about stuff!


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